


There Can Be Only One

by MissPopuri



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPopuri/pseuds/MissPopuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the span of a few hours, we can lose everything in an instant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warning Signs

They say that the more perfect something appears, the better chance it will be that something awful will shatter that delicate, fleeting balance in nature. No one ever takes the advice of elders with experience because they know no better than to think anything of the good fortune. Gaius taught me that.

Unfortunately, like most times I don’t heed his advice, the terribly, predictable calamity is soon to befall the heroes of this story.

As all great stories must start, I have to go back to the beginning—the love of a king for his fair maiden, the revenge of a fallen witch, and knights in shining armor—are only a taste of the true mess we are in. My foolhardy, compassionate nature has ultimately got the better of me.

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Two and a half months after the windows were officially restored to their former glory, Arthur made for a celebration and a reconvening of the four kingdoms. Party politics what they were, each kingdom could have a fair shot at gaining the remains of Cenred’s former kingdom.

In the rules of passing off a kingdom without an heir, the alliance of the five—now four kingdoms—had to decide the matter in as civil as possible. The challenge was getting Cornwall to the North, Gedref to the South, and Lot’s kingdom on the other side of Cenred’s to agree to go along with any changes.

With added pressures worrying about dividing up Cenred’s heirless kingdom heavy on his mind, Arthur had to fulfill his duties as interim king while Uther lay in a state not stable for ruling a kingdom. Likewise, the stress affected his temper which made him more angry than usual when I forgot to polish his armor.

Even with responsibilities piling on the young king, Arthur still found time to spend with Gwen. Spare moments the two of them shared were what he needed. The less time he spent training with his knights—Leon as second in command—it was heaven sent for the once and future king.

Typically, I dressed Arthur every morning—on the day of the official meeting was no exception—his regal red over shirt and dark pants were the dress of choice for the meeting. My servant’s brush swept lint and white flecks off his shoulders—the diligence I showed at this task didn’t deter Arthur from berating me though—his remarks didn’t go unnoticed, “It’s good to see you making an effort to make me look nice today, Merlin, but I still think you’re an idiot.”

As I rolled my eyes, I finished up the brushing off of his coat and retorted, “I may be an idiot, but clotpole is reserved for you.”

Usually, Arthur got angry about being called a clotpole, but he smiled and pulled me into a headlock, ruffling hair and kneading some knuckle into my scalp. The bonding moment stopped and he cleared his throat, “If I am as big an idiot as you say, then my resolve to marry Guinevere while my father is still alive would be downright ignorant, wouldn’t it?”

My eyebrow quirked up, I never heard anything like it before, Arthur was always so guarded in his relationship with Gwen before now. Talking to me like a person asking for consolation or advice, I was caught off guard by the open conversation.

Lost at other words to say, I answered him, “I think it takes a great deal of courage to do things that others won’t do,” I paused for a second, “Gwen might have some qualms with the arrangement, but she loves you, I’m sure she’ll marry you no matter what happens.”

As the last words escaped from my mouth, Arthur pulled my head again under his arm into a headlock—ruffling hair and knuckles grinding the soft spot of my scalp—he laughed harder as the door opened up to his rooms. Gwen walked in wearing her purple dress with the flowery bodice—curtseying, she blanched at the scene.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” she stammered, “I didn’t know you were still undressed.”

“No harm done, Gwen,” I answered, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Winking at Arthur, I left the room for him to talk to Gwen. He narrowed his eyes at me, mouthing with finger gestures to get out. Giving him the thumbs up, I hand Gwen the brush I was holding and close the door behind me.

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When I came downstairs to the throne room, the five kingdoms were already present and accounted for in the hall. With the exception of Arthur who was fashionably late with Gwen, the knights of Camelot were dressed in their formal red cloaks and matching buckles—shoulder to shoulder—they stood in order of height: Percival, Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan. It still tickled me how Gwaine could stand to in the uniform after being banished by Uther many months ago.

If the noise was any indication of the capacity for which the hall found itself, the room hushed almost instantly when Arthur entered into the hall to sit down at the head of the proceedings. Gwen came in not long with a discreet smile and happy glow about her. I caught her eye, and she blushed, turning away from my stare.

Secrets were everywhere in Camelot. I knew I had quite a few that were unmentionable. From the look of pure exhilaration on Gwen’s face, I could tell that Arthur proposed to her. Not even Uther—still mentally incapable and weak—he would not have spoiled a moment of realization more poignant than if he could try.

Raising a hand for silence—even though it was already given—he didn’t speak until everyone’s attention was focused on him. His voice spoke clear and forthright, “My friends and esteemed leaders, I welcome you to Camelot,” he began, “I am grateful to you who came all this way in no great distances: North, South, East, and West.”

As he spoke, I looked around at the gathering of people here. They were noble of the highest orders in their kingdoms. Some were familiar, and others were not. Distinctly missing however—with his warm regards—Olaf, king of the western kingdoms, was not able to get away at this time. Vivian was still unfit for travel, and it would be best to avoid the scandal of the previous encounter.

Anyways, new faces were easily more amiable than the Lady Vivian—like Princess Mithian for example—her family sent her to represent the land holdings of her estate on the Labyrinth of Gedref and surrounding farm land. The king of Mercia was present to fight for a fair chunk of Cenred’s former lands. Sections that—if honored—would include my own home of Ealdor under Mercian rule. Chaos from the aftermath of Cenred’s death producing no heirs has not helped my homeland in the slightest.

In addition to Mithian and Mercia, we were joined by the representative of Cornwall—the Lord Agravaine—or as Arthur likes to call him, uncle.

Officially, the meeting got under way. An hour went by, debates raged on who has a greater claim to their land. Two of Agravaine’s lesser attendants started a brawl with one of the lesser Mercian attendants—both parties were forced outside the city gates to settle it.

Two hours into the meeting, Gwen softly yawned beside me. She ended up going to check on Uther’s health.

Certainly, it was three hours into the meeting when I felt it. The chill wind blowing across my arm, the effects of midsummer having no bearing on my senses—instinctually, I was told something was wrong, but I ignored it, turned my head from the window.

“Merlin, please take my father out of here,” Arthur spoke directly to me, “he’s had enough for the day.”

Eager to leave the room, I moved to where Uther was seated and went to stand on the other side opposite Gwen. Uther’s head drooped, body hunched over in his chair. A frail embodiment of a man who used to strike terror into the hearts of magic users everywhere; some had grown to resent the man, and others would be more than glad to see him suffer a long drawn-out death.

The sight of him so decrepit, I almost retched right there. Gwen’s hand rested on Uther’s left shoulder, I did the same on his right. I said, “Let us help you to your room, sire.”

A half-sleepy Uther lifted his nodding head silently agreeing, he started to get up. Proving too difficult, Gwen and I each grabbed an elbow to steady the old king. I maneuvered my arm to wrap around his waist as the king wrapped a hand around my shoulders and Gwen’s. We steadily made our way out the door and up the stairs to Uther’s chambers. After a few indistinguishable groans, we got him settled into his bed.

Finally, Uther croaked out, “Thank you, Merlin,” with a slow turn toward Gwen, he added, “and I would personally like to thank you, Gwen, for looking after me.”

Gwen gave a small curtsey, resting one of her gentle hands on his shoulder. Coaxing him to not over exert himself, he gestured with his hand for her to lean forward. He whispered something into her ear. A gentle smile curved her mouth as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Standing upright, she said aloud for me to hear, “You better rest now, sire. It’s been a long day.”

It took some convincing, but we actually got Uther to sleep after a little bit more coaxing. Curiosity about what he whispered to Gwen got the better of me, but she hushed me with a look before I could ask.

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“I am claiming what is rightfully mine,” an old familiar voice said as we reentered the chamber. Morgana stood before Arthur, looking haggard and worn with a black dress all in tatters. Dark shadows lining her eyelids, it didn’t look particularly flattering—most distinctly disturbing of long sleepless nights worrying about one’s past.

Arthur’s voice spoke next to Morgana, he seemed resolute and stubborn, “You have no connection to Cenred’s former kingdom. We have nothing further to discuss.”

A smirk began to form on Morgana’s lips, her eyes shown that mischievous nature of hers. The chill wind that I felt earlier rippled against my bones, I didn’t look toward the window this time as Morgana had everyone in the room under her command.

“Very well,” Morgana’s head bowed slightly, she turned her head slightly—eyes glazed over, “this is a pleasant surprise,” her voice lowered dramatically almost trance like, “I have been waiting for you, Emrys.”

Again, the chill came—this time, it went down my spine—Morgana could probably smell the fear on me as our two opposing energies met in a death glare equally matched. Arthur—as well as others—completely oblivious to the tambour of the situation. It was Morgana’s turn of phrase toward the crowd that gave me pause.

Her tone changed again. The message was clear. Morgana had figured it out without my telling her. Magic couldn’t be revealed unless the sorcerer was willing, or worse, a mistake had been made. My face paled at the confused stares and leers.

Gwen stepped up beside me, hand wrapped around my arm. She squeezed it encouragingly. Her eyes steely daggers at Morgana, her warning in accusatory fashion as followed, “I’ve witnessed dark magic from you, Morgana, and I highly doubt that you are reliable enough to judge the fitting treatment of magic users when you are one yourself,” as she paused to catch her breath, she added, “Merlin’s heart is pure and good, magic may have been used to protect Arthur, but his friendship and close bond unites us in Camelot.”

Anger gave way to laughter inside Morgana, the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she burst out laughing caused the castle walls to start to tremble. In the interior room, pillars were shifting on their newly framed ceiling, little particles of dust falling down in sprinkle patches. This time no scream tumbled the walls, laughter roared from Morgana’s mouth. The first pillar toppled over as it narrowly missed me.

Elsewhere, the knights sprang into action. Leon, Lancelot, and Elyan pulled away from the pack of knights, dragging the startled crowd to safety. Gwaine ran towards us by the door and grabbed our hands.

Fires spontaneously lit as we ran down the hall and outside the castle. An arrow landed shy of one foot away from us as we stepped into the late afternoon sunshine, the walls surrounding the city were lined with mercenaries—most likely from Morgana’s salvaged immortal army. Arrows all aimed at Gwaine, Gwen, and myself, we turned back toward the castle, but we were trapped outside with more soldiers who ran toward us with swords extended.

Even though the arrows could have finished us off, they appeared to be waiting for something. Our escape seemed ineffectual at this point, and Gwaine braced himself for the fight of his life.

Though it did not come, Gwen grabbed Gwaine’s shield and ran towards the city gate. To our surprise, no one appeared to shoot her. In no time at all, we took to running as I placed enchanted objects in the path of our pursuers.

Once outside the gate, the pursuit was ongoing. Our legs carried us almost toward the tree line when I could feel the air suddenly leave me, an arrow grazed by me in the fray, it struck the underside below my ribcage. Pain seared through me as I stumbled forward to catch my breath, Gwen and Gwaine paused to grab a hold of my elbows. They were panicked at our abrupt stop.

Catching his breath first, Gwaine pulled me forward, “It’s not safe here, mate, out in the open.”

We were stalled and too afraid to move when white stallions galloped towards us. It made me glad to see Camelot’s finest horses riding toward us. For the moment, we were among friends who could help us.

Leon and Lancelot dismounted. They took stock of our lot, examined my side as I nursed it hunched over Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Merlin, you will need to have medical attention on that as soon as possible,” Leon spoke first, he unsheathed his sword and pointed it toward the wood, “those woods are crawling with mercenaries under Morgana’s control,” and pointed toward Camelot, “and mercenaries are teeming inside Camelot.”

With what little intelligence we had so far, we gathered that it would be a safe bet to ride out on horse toward Cenred’s kingdom and Ealdor. Lancelot and Leon were glad to escape on horseback when they did because the guards would be wise to their disappearance soon and come after them.

Lots were cast on who went on horseback to Ealdor. The unlucky draw fell to Gwaine, the healthy knight willing to stay behind, he waved Leon, Gwen, Lancelot, and myself on as we rode away from Camelot.

Despite his shortcomings as a determined and obstinate man, Gwaine was no better than the worst drunk at times, but he threw down his life for you in a pinch. I turned my head to watch his features get smaller as we were on our way.

Ealdor wasn’t the safest place to be right now, but it was a far cry better than Camelot.


	2. Marriage of Allegiance

I watched as Gwen took off toward the city gate. Secretly willing her to do it, my heart skipped a beat as the arrows narrowly missed her slim frame. I could not move as I stared out over the balcony that my sister Morgana brought me out to see the spectacle. The uneasy feeling I had as my knights were captured one by one—Gwaine, Leon, and Lancelot seemed to be the only ones who escaped. I was at a loss at what to do.

To say that Morgana’s arrival was a surprise is an understatement, I had a letter addressed to me for this very occasion. Her intensions were clear. A permanent position as queen of Camelot was going to be hers no matter the cost.

Better still, I didn’t care what Morgana thought about the prospect of me marrying her. It was always rumored that Morgana and I would be married one day because of destiny and fated to be my queen. My heart sank at the prospect as I had given myself wholly to Guinevere.

An agreement had been made between us. Gwen and I would be married if it is the last thing I did. Morgana’s intentions, be damned.

Of course, I never thought to judge the turpitude that is Morgana’s demeanor. A vengeful woman that she was I would have to go along with what she said. Her eyes watched me as I stared out over the wrecked havoc on the kingdom. My heart was heavy knowing that those who did make it out of Camelot to safety would surely be hunted down.

Footfalls echoed against the stone walk behind us, Morgana turned her head toward the sound as did I. My heart sank again when I saw my uncle, Agravaine, stand there in the opening, clearing his throat. He said, “I’m sorry, nephew,” he stopped for a second, “I think you have to come quickly. Your father calls you.”

Nerves shot, I find the strength to move and race towards my father’s side. He is sitting up, face deathly pale. A small quirk of the upper lip is barely noticeable as I take one of his uncovered hands in mine.

“Father, how are you feeling?”

His mouth opened to speak but no sound came out except for a hard cough, spasms causing him to rock back and forth in his seated position. I steadied him, and he relaxed. Finally, he said, “Thank you. I’m fine. How’s the castle still holding after the earth moved?”

I shushed him as I made him lie back in his bed. My eyes turned towards the door where Agravaine and Morgana are now standing watching the sequence. For the moment, I had nothing to say to them. I turned back to my father, answered, “We are very lucky that magic could not tear down this foundation a second time.”

Rocking him to sleep, I noticed my father mumbling under his breath. I leaned in to hear what he said. It was subtle and audible only to those closest to him, but he mumbled, “Magic will not be the death of me. Evil forces are not going to off me.”

Leaving him to sleep soundly, I left his side and rejoined Morgana and Agravaine. They leered at me with their piercing eyes—one set of cold, icy blues and the other set black as coal—I matched their death glares with my own. After what felt like a minute, Morgana gestured me to follow her back to the throne room.

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I didn’t know what I was expecting when I got back into the throne room.

The majority of the guests would have left the castle by now. It was understandable that no kingdom wanted to be involved in a squabble with one’s sibling. Morgana sat down on the throne as if it were her own.

“My dear brother, I’m glad you kept my seat warm for me,” she smirked as she added mischievously, “but I will be taking over from here.”

Anger arose inside me, my eyes narrowed as I stared long and hard at Morgana, “If you think that you can take my title to the throne, then you have another thing coming, my dear sister.”

Before she could retort, Morgana was interrupted by a rush at the door. A mercenary came through, shouted, “We have found traces of the two horses that were taken from Camelot’s stables. As we speak, I have men following the trail that it leads.”

In place of a retort, Morgana answered, “Very well, you better bring in any captives for questioning.”

“Yes, my lady.”

The soldier bowed out of the room, took his leave of Morgana. He barely registered my presence in the room.

“Well, this is exciting,” she said, “a simple takeover with a little mercenary assistance and magic. I can’t wait to see the faces of my prisoners.”

All I could do is stand there, nothing I could say would help right now.


	3. Heroic Captivity

Night fell quickly as my friends ran off without me, the pursuing mercenaries would be coming up to my hideout any time now. It would be indicative of my situation to jump out of my hiding place into the saddle of the last rider going by my path.

Wrestling with the foe to the ground, I punched the man in the jaw. I picked myself up and pulled my sword from its sheathed position. My opponent does the same, clashing swords within seconds of wielding it.

Swords clanging together and trying to keep my own footing, I was unaware of the rider who pulled up behind me until its horse was right on top of me. The horse let out a whinny, rearing up on its hind legs. Its rider dismounted when the horse landed on its front legs.

The surprise that followed was how my opponent unarmed me in one quick motion. He forced me down to my knees as the now unhorsed rider strode toward me. His face covered by a dark hood. The gesture he made with his hand was the sign to keep me restrained and compliant.

His voice as rough as gravel, spoke, “Where are your friends, Sir Gwaine of Camelot?”

With a load of spit forming in my mouth, I spat down on the ground at the man’s shoes. I grinned, showing all my teeth, “If you were any friend of Camelot or one in the knight’s code, I would tell you, mercenary.”

As much as could be expected, my remark landed me the backhand of the cloaked man’s hand. I lost consciousness when the armed guards which restrained my arms at my side pulled me up to a standing position, arms still restrained by strong forces. One man hit me in the back of the head with the blunt end of his sword, the other used his fist to pound me in the stomach.

Hunched over, breathing heavy, I looked up to see the hood removed from the man’s head. Recognition dawned on me that he was present at the meeting, I let out a laugh to prove my defiance.

The man held up his hand for the men to stop with their beating. He glared at me. “We will have to wait and see what the lady Morgana and Agravaine have to say about this knight. Bring him.”

“I should have known you couldn’t finish me off right here and now,” I scoffed, “is that all you lot can do?”

There was not a chance for any more lambasting. The next thing I knew was another knock to the head, and my world went black.

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The moment I felt the water splash my face, dripping down my skin, my senses came back to me—I was clad in iron shackles from my wrists and around my ankles—knees bent forward, I was facing an unfamiliar face on the Pendragon throne. My vision cleared to distinguish Morgana seated in Arthur’s spot. I also noticed Arthur standing to the right of Morgana, a pursed frown creased his lips and eyes that explained much.

Without a word, Morgana ordered the guards still plastered to my side to lift me to my feet. I shook their firm grip off of me. Morgana smirked at my defiance, “It’s a pleasure, Sir Gwaine, to have you as my first guest in my court.”

“I don’t consider thievery a pleasure, Morgana,” my voice echoed through the chambers, “the only woman who I will be pleased to make acquaintance with would be the actual queen of Camelot.”

Hushed gasps and whispers could be heard throughout the chamber. The guards moved to restrain me once more, pushed me toward the ground to kneel at Morgana’s feet. Her countenance never changed her outward features. She merely smiled and turned around to walk back to the throne.

Sitting down, she spoke these words, “I think you will be getting your wish sooner rather than later.”

I turned my head to spit in the face of the guard on my left. He made a hand motion to strike me, but Morgana snickered, “You’re a rather mouthy knight, Gwaine, I think we could have a use for you.”

With another wave of her hand, she motioned her guards to haul me out of the room. I shouted at the top of my lungs, dragged out of the chamber, “I will never bow down before you, vile witch.”


	4. Exiled To Injury

After many feverish nights, I woke up to see the moon shining bright through the window. Its fullness indicated that I was out of it at least a week. My head started hurting from the prolonged pain in my side, and the dull ache still remained as I absentmindedly touched my bandage wrapped around my middle.

In gathering my bearings, I jumped at the opening of the door. It was only my mother who came in to check up on me. She noticed me sitting up in bed and quickly went over to check my bandages.

“Oh good,” she started, “you’re up. Are you feeling alright, my son?”

I nodded my head, said, “Yes, I’m doing quite well. Thank you, mother.”

She smiled—a few stray tears ran down her cheeks, I reached out to wipe them away—she laughed and replied, “We were awfully worried about you. The arrow that pierced your side barely nicked your ribcage, but it was touch and go for a while.”

“We?!?”

Her voice lowered substantially as she continued, “Yes, Gwen was very helpful in your recovery,” pausing for a second, she added, “Gwen will be glad to hear you are up and talking. I think she went out to the pasture if you want to see her.”

Nodding my head, I slowly got up and put a clean shirt on over my bandaged middle.

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I found Gwen leaning against a tree when I followed the familiar path to the pasture land. She was lost in thought, it seemed. I thought not to disturb her, but she turned to speak anyway.

“Oh, Merlin, you’re up. Thank goodness.”

She came over to hug me, wrapping her arms around me. It felt good to have her strong arms around my waist. I noticed a tear stray down her cheek, too. I laughed as I wiped it away, “I’m a lot stronger than I look Gwen. Didn’t you have any faith in me?”

Hearing me laugh, she laughed a little, too, “I’m sorry, I was also thinking about the last time Arthur was in Ealdor,” she pointed towards the tree, “I brought him food at this spot and chastised him for his prideful disdain of the villagers.” Another giggle erupted from her, a memory must have hit her at that moment.

“Well, that was Arthur for you, a clotpole if there ever was one,” I acknowledged.

Gwen bowed her head at the memory, she replied, “Arthur has grown so much since then though,” she swallowed sadness, “I wish I could go back and help him.”

I wrapped my arms around Gwen again, kissed the top of her head.

“We will figure something out, Gwen,” I whispered, “Morgana cannot get away with this forever.”

She nodded into my shirt without another word. Another tear stained my shirt, I let her cry holding her tighter.


	5. By The Court

It was a long and stressful week. I had to avoid Morgana’s gaze whenever she brought up the subject of being queen. The people who remained in Camelot didn’t respect her because I was still her prisoner, and the crown prince is not to be trifled with on these matters.

I walked into her bedroom as she finished dressing, and I cleared my throat for her attendants to leave us. They left on her bidding, and I turned my attention again to the front.

“What is it, Arthur?”

Nerves were suddenly raw, I had to say this soon. I started, “You are right, Morgana,” I paused for a moment to catch her reaction, she didn’t speak, “the people don’t respect you as long as I am here, but as I won’t leave my people, you are stuck in my shadow.”

Morgana blinked once, “Go on.”

With that I continued, “It would be best to marry to keep the people from rioting.”

Silently agreeing, Morgana smiled and ordered her guard from behind her door to enter. He acknowledged my presence, and I left with the man.

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To have Geoffrey preside over the marriage ceremony, I felt uneasy again at what I was doing. This was supposed to be for Gwen and I, not Morgana and I. He presented the crown that I would have to lay on Morgana’s head as a symbol of our union. My stomach felt sick as I looked over at the bride herself. Morgana looked so smug in this dress made of purple laced with silver ribbons.

The people of court witnessed as I set the circlet upon my queen’s head. I reached out my hand to lift her to her feet, standing beside me on the throne.

With all the pleasantries, I escorted my now queen Morgana onto the balcony to be greeted by her people. She stepped a little ahead of me, and I knew she was proud of what she had accomplished. The people cheered because they knew a wedding had come, and the excuse to get a day off was strong among the villagers.

Looking through the faces of the crowd, I didn’t recognize anyone except one cloaked figure disappears from one of the castle alcoves on the opposite wall. The broad shoulders and smaller stature were clearly visible from my position behind Morgana. If she had noticed the figure, too, she didn’t let on as she let the crowd cheer on her special day.

Turning around to motion me forward, she wanted me to make a speech. I stepped forward uneasily, I raised my hand for quiet. The crowd settled down, and I raised my voice to the crowd, “I am pleased to announce that you have a new queen. After twenty five years, you, the people of Camelot have a new lady to adore,” I paused for effect, “let’s all cheer one more time for Morgana, queen of Camelot.”

Again, the crowd burst into excited cheers. I let Morgana revel a little more in the crowd’s new found adoration. I leaned over to whisper into her ear, “Don’t think for a minute that I will think of you as we consummate this marriage tonight.”

If she was deterred by this blanket statement, she did not let on. Her fake smile for the people covered up all the hurt that she might have felt.


	6. A Stranger Reveals

The next day, I was sitting at our small table changing up my bandage when the clomp, clomp of hoof beats could be heard outside the open door. Gwen was standing by the earthwork stove wiping down a pan. I looked up as the figure dismounted and ran into the house.

He pulled off his cloak to reveal himself to be Lancelot clad in black with the brown hood. Lancelot made a quick sweep of the room before bringing his attention to me at the table. He assessed my injuries with approval, as he said, “I see you are doing better, Merlin.”

I nod my head in the affirmative as Lancelot relays where he had been. After depositing us in Ealdor, Lancelot went on a scouting mission back into Camelot. Leon was not happy that Lancelot ended up doing this mission solo, but he didn’t question the bravery it took Lancelot to go around undetected. When he got around to talking about Arthur, he paused for a moment to look at Gwen.

He spoke softer and gentler, “I have some upsetting news to report. Arthur has been married to the Lady Morgana within the past 24 hours.”

Gwen stopped what she was doing and came to sit next to me at the table. She gave Lancelot her undivided attention as she asked, “That would make Morgana queen now.”

Without a word, Lancelot nodded his head. His eyes betraying sadness at Gwen’s heartache; I broke in with, “We aren’t going to let her get away with this, are we?”

Anger bubbled up inside me, I was ready to burst through my bandages. This seething anger that I felt as I realized that Morgana was going to win this time.  
Lancelot let his head fall down to his chest, heaving a sigh. He looked up to say, “There really isn’t much we can do.”

Even though he was trying to be realistic, I knew Lancelot wanted more than anything to make everything okay for Gwen and Arthur. It must feel really helpless, and it doesn’t help that I need to betray Gaius’ teachings yet again revealing my magic to people who could betray me in return.

I excused myself from the room, pretended like I needed to get something. In the span of time it would take someone to get changed normally, I was back in my friends’ presence. This time, I was old and nearing eighty years old. Lancelot stepped forward and looked me up and down, circling me a few times before he commented, “Is that really you, Merlin?”

“Well, of course, it’s me,” I snapped, the cantankerous old man in me making my words come out even more crotchety than they intended, “if you think you could find a better way to infiltrate Camelot, I would like to hear it.”

No arguments could be heard from Lancelot on the matter, he remained mute even after Leon rushed into the house drawing his sword at me as an old man. He demanded, “What do you want, old man?”

“Me,” I held up my hand to my chest, slightly offended, “I don’t want anything but to help my friends get back their kingdom.”

Leon wasn’t budging from his pointed stance. He looked at Gwen and Lancelot as they weren’t ready to fight me, and he thought to withdraw his sword.

I nodded my head, “Yes, I would like to think that I, Merlin, has a plan to get all of us back to Camelot and replace Morgana with Gwen.”

Looks of disbelief were exchanged around the room as I exclaimed in the affirmative my intentions. Everyone stared, waited for me to continue the plan.

With a smirk at Gwen, I turned to the rest of the group and gave them my ideas.

-END-


End file.
